K is for Kathleen
by rittenden
Summary: Written for an alphabet challenge on the Numb3rs Fanrush site - and for a friend, hence the title. Oneshot.


I just want it on the record that the formatting on this site is extremely disagreeable. It messes with layout and makes this story read... stupid. For lack of a better term.

* * *

So this is what it's like.

Just when things are going along great, fate has to step in and screw everything up. The night was going great. Spent the whole evening with Robin – she's a wonderful woman – no fooling around, just sitting on the sofa watching an old black and white movie and sharing a bowl of popcorn. 'Arsenic and Old Lace', I think it was called. Great movie. Great company. Definitely ranks up there with the Laundromat as 'best date I ever had'.

And cream soda. I don't know where she got such a sweet tooth, but when I suggested cracking open a couple of beers, Robin came out of the galley-style kitchen with two large glasses full of pink liquid. Pink. Tasted pretty damn good, too. But I didn't tell her that.

Kind of wish I had, now.

So we're sitting there, curled up on the couch together (Robin's half in my lap, the bowl of popcorn resting on my knees) and watching Cary Grant wig out when his aunt told him just because she'd killed twelve men didn't mean she'd tell a lie when the phone rang. Not Robin's phone, either. My cell phone. Sometimes I'm tempted to flush the damn thing down the toilet.

Now I wish I had.

Everything went downhill from there. I kissed Robin goodbye (Is it my fault it took ten minutes?) and took off in my truck for the most recent crime against humanity. David, Megan and Colby were already there. They gave me the particulars as I walked over to a pit that was originally supposed to become someone's basement. Not anymore. Property value dropped when some sick individual decided to dump their latest victim in the nearest open excavation. I stood at the edge of the pit and looked down.

A kid.

Damn.

I felt the anger pushing bile up into my throat and had to swallow hard a couple of times before I could speak without throwing up. Some people think it's easy – that you get used to the sight of violent death. Maybe that's true. Not for me, though. I've just learned to hide it real well.

This one looked familiar. Not the kid, but the way that… yeah. So David and I headed back to the office and started pulling out files. It took some doing, but I managed to find the one I'd been trying to remember. The case was almost three years old, but the photographs were still there in living colour. Ironic choice of words, I know.

At the time, there was a guy we suspected of the killing, but he'd had an alibi so we let him go. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd just been lying low all this time or if he'd been up to no good and we just hadn't caught him at it. I told David to go find the guy and I put in a call to my brother.

Yeah. The mathematician. I figured if anyone can find the link between the old case and the new, it would be Charlie. He's good at that sort of thing. He won't see the pictures, of course – Dad would kill me if I let that happen – but I thought I had enough stats and other abstract information for him to go on.

At least I hoped so.

It wasn't until the second ring that I realized I'd done it again. It was almost midnight. Just as I was about to hang up, my father sleepily answered the phone and I found myself apologizing for getting him out of bed. Of course he told me it was all right, but I know that he worries one of these late night phone calls are going to be about me instead of from me.

Like tonight.

He put my brother on the phone – sounding considerably more awake than Dad was – and I told Charlie what I needed him for. Charlie's brain immediately kicked into high gear and he started rambling off equations and theories he might use. I let him go on for a minute or so – mostly because I like to hear him being smart – and then I cut him off by telling him I'd have someone drop by to pick him up.

I kind of wish I'd gone myself, now.

Once I got off the phone with my genius brother, I called Megan to see what they'd come up with. She said the evidence techs had just gotten there and they didn't have anything to report yet. Then I called dispatch and requested someone go pick up my brother. For such a smart guy, you'd think by now he'd realize the necessity of having a driver's license. I'd go nuts if I had to rely on someone else for a ride all the time.

Of course, if I'd had someone with me, I might not be in this mess. Maybe. Charlie would be able to calculate the probability of it all, but he's not here right now. Thank God.

David came back with a list of probable locations for the guy I wanted. It was a pretty hefty list, so between the two of us we attempted to narrow it down a bit. Maybe not as fancy as the way ol' Chuck does it, but it's worked before. We split the list between us – ten for me, nine for David – and set out in our separate vehicles to find the guy.

I found him at the second place I went to. It wasn't really that hard, actually. I pulled up in front of the house and went to knock on the door and he opened it. I told him who I was (he said he recognized me) and said I wanted to talk to him.

Stupid, really, the things you think of afterwards. Like calling for backup. I figure I should have called about ten minutes before I actually did. It wasn't until I'd heard a sound coming from the back room of the house that I started to think something was up. It was a type of noise I hadn't heard in about thirty years – the sound of a kid trying not to cry. Charlie used to do it when he was little and he'd hurt himself. He never wanted to cry in front of me for some reason, even when I told him it was okay.

You never take your own advice, either. I wonder why that is?

So I looked at this guy and he looked spooked. Really spooked, like he was going to bolt any second. I drew my gun and told him not to move while I opened the door to the back room and looked inside. There was a kid sitting on the bed, all curled up in a ball and trying not to cry. She must have been about seven or eight and scared as hell. I left the door open and turned back just in time to see the guy with a knife in his hand coming at me.

Well I already had my gun pointed at him, so I yelled at him to stop or I was going to shoot. He didn't, of course. Probably thought he didn't have anything to lose at that point – I'd already seen the kid, and I was pretty sure he was responsible for the other one, too. I didn't want to kill the guy. I'd rather see him get the needle for what he did. I shot him, yeah, but only in the arm. So he'd drop the knife. It worked, too – he hollered like crazy when I slapped the cuffs on him. I suppose I was a little rough, but… well…

That's when I called for backup. Then I went in to talk to the kid. She was just a little thing, all big eyes and long, dark brown curly hair. She kind of reminded me of my brother in a way and I got mad at the guy all over again. I went into the kitchen where I'd left him, cuffed his hands to the fridge door and then I took the little girl out to my truck and wrapped her up in a blanket. She said 'another one', so I gave her my jacket too. Poor kid was in shock.

At least, that's what I thought she was talking about.

As soon as I was sure she'd be all right on her own for a minute, I locked the doors on the truck and went back in the house. I'd about decided I was going to give that scum a hard time for what he'd done to the little girl before my backup arrived (no witnesses, and all that), but when I went back into the kitchen the freak was grinning like he'd just won the lottery. That made me mad. I walked right up to him and grabbed the front of his shirt and yelled at him. He wouldn't tell me what he found so funny, so I shoved him up against the fridge. I have to say it was good to see that stupid smirk come off his face. He didn't answer me, though.

I figured it out soon enough.

The next thing I knew, someone grabbed me from behind and pulled my head back. I felt something around my throat and then… the only thing I can think of now to describe it is icy fire running up the side of my neck. I heard sirens and a gunshot…

Now all I can think of is the stupid phone call. I hope Megan's the one who does it. I'm pretty sure she'll go see my dad in person instead of just calling him. She's thoughtful that way.

Man, I wish Colby would let up for a minute. I want to tell him he made a good shot, but he won't let go and I can't talk when someone's trying to strangle me. Maybe if I…

Guess I didn't need volume. He understood me anyway.

Robin!

Damn. I promised her we'd go to the silent movie theatre on Fairfax this weekend. There's a Buster Keaton marathon going on and she really wanted to see it. I wonder if they sell cream soda…

There's the little girl. She looks okay now. Kind of scared, but that's to be expected. She'll get over it someday I hope. Sure wouldn't mind having my jacket back right about now, though. It's gotten pretty chilly out in the last half hour or so.

Who the hell is that? Bad enough that Granger was trying to choke me – now someone else is, too. What is this, pick on Eppes day? God, you'd think they'd figure out when a guy's had enough.

Charlie. Oh damn. He's on his way to the office. Guess I didn't need to haul him out of bed after all. He probably wasn't sleeping, but still – he might have been if I hadn't called. I guess it doesn't matter. Someone would be waking them up right now anyway. I hope Megan…

Did that already. Get a grip on yourself, Eppes. The last thing you need right now is to lose your marbles. You've got people to set an example for. At least it's warming up outside, finally. For a little while it felt like we were going to get snowed on.

Ouch. What the hell…? Oh. Paramedic. Yeah, I can hear you. Don't yell at me. Listen, fella… it's more important that _you _keep _your_ eyes open right now, okay? I'm not trying to do anything here, so let a guy rest, will you? No. Not 'hold on' – let go. Stop choking me…

Where am I? White lights – am I…? No. Hospital. Okay then. What? Yes, I can hear you. What _is_ it with you people? Some guy jumped me and someone else is trying to strangle me – I'm not deaf. How's the kid? Anyone? The little girl – you remember her, right? Looks kind of like my brother without the nose? Hello?

Aw, Charlie – I'm sorry, buddy. I wish I'd been a better big brother to you. I can't imagine the hell you had to go through being as smart as you are but I wish I'd been a little more understanding – a little more tolerant. I never told you, but… I envied you your smarts, bro. It was tough, having a kid brother so brainy, but…

I grew out of it, Charlie. And I'm not envious anymore. I love you, bro. Look after Dad…

Dad… I'm sorry about this. About a lot of things. I wish I had been there more instead of taking off halfway across the country… that I'd called more often when I was working with Coop… that I'd tried a little harder to give you those grandchildren you wanted…

Megan, David, Colby… you guys are the best team I could have hoped for. Keep your heads down.

Robin… sorry about the movie, sweetheart. I should have told you how I really felt about you. Things might have been different…

* * *

"…Sure he's going to be alright?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Eppes. He'll be fine. Don't let him talk for a while yet, though, okay?"

"Thanks, Doc."

I can't help but wonder what I've done right. I certainly didn't expect to hear that voice again. I'd like to tell him everything I was thinking when I… well…

As it is, by the time I get to a point where I can talk, I won't. I know it. There's just something about baring your soul – even to family members – that goes against the grain for me. I've tried a couple of times, but I can't do it. I don't know why not.

I could blame the job, give the whole 'my career demands I adopt a closed-mouth attitude about my personal life', but Charlie's got it going on too, and he can still talk about how he feels. I can't do it. I don't know why. One of the psychologists I had to talk to after an Officer Involved Shooting Incident told me that it was a good trait to have in my line of work. Then he said if I didn't ease up on it I'd burn out before I was thirty-five. Go figure.

But for right now…

"Charlie – hand me that pen. He wants to tell us something… Here you go, Donny."

_Sorry._


End file.
